Ross doesn’t know how he got here. He’s sitting between his- friends? partners? more-than-friends?- and they’re each holding one of his hands. Trott is on the left, closer to the window, watching the wintry Swiss Alps blur past. He looks tired, and his mouth is set in a pensive frown. The camera was set up on a tripod in front of him, capturing the view for Ross to timelapse later. Smith is on the right of Ross, next to the cabin door, head tipped against the wall. His eyes are closed, and he’s snoring quietly.

Sure, Ross knows how he got here, as in, the Alps. Trott and Smith had asked him to go with them, to meet some sort of wildlife expert who they were interested in filming. It was all-expenses paid, and Ross said okay. He loved travelling, and if they weren’t paying for it, all the more reason to take the opportunity. So they packed up their gear, flew to Germany, stayed for a night, and hopped a train the next morning to Switzerland. All normal things for a trip.

Except…

Ross looks down, at his hands intertwined with Smith and Trott’s. Trott had the smaller hands, but his fingers were the same length as his palm. His skin was thin but smooth, cool but not cold. Smith’s hands, by comparison, were wider, but his palm tapered slightly more towards his wrist. His index finger was the longest of his thicker fingers, and his hands themselves were soft and warm.

Ross wasn’t sure why they were holding his hands. He doesn’t know why they’d want to. His hands were decidedly not the best kind to hold- his fingers were squared off and mostly the same length, his knuckles and veins were prominent, and his palms were always sweaty and clammy.

It wasn’t that the hand holding bothered him, it didn’t- that’s what bothered him.

Trott and Smith had….this thing between them. Call it chemistry, call it whatever you liked, they moved around each other fluidly- naturally, like rivers and streams. They had a bigger history than Ross did with them, and that history had things he’d never know and would never be told.

A few months back, Smith and Trott had let slip that they’d legitimately fucked around in college. Ross had always wondered, but he didn’t know they’d fucked around a couple times in uni, too, and a couple times after, around the time when Ross was introduced to Smith.

For weeks, it haunted his nights, but…to Smith and Trott, it was nothing. Just a blip on the radar, a notch on the bedpost, another memory they shared that Ross didn’t.

And Ross wondered, really started wondering, why that bothered him. Why he felt…left out. He’s entertained the idea before, of being with them, sexually, more times than he can count, and more times than he’d rather admit. He knows they probably wouldn’t care if they knew about it- it’d just become a joke, and it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t be taken seriously.

But then he and Trott were talking after seeing a movie.

“You know…about me and Smith,” Trott started, idly kicking a pebble as they walked along the street.

“What about you and Smith? Did you have another bang session to work out your pent up feelings?” Ross joked.

“Yeah. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, mate. We don’t want things to be weird.” Trott frowns and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Not that weird, I guess.” If he didn’t think about it with his hand wrapped around his dick. Ross shrugged. “We make jokes about it all the time.”

“And they were usually just that- jokes.”

“Well…I mean. Good on you, I guess, mate.” He’s itching to ask who tops, and feels his face burn again. “Just don’t fuck in the office, yeah?”

Trott laughs and the tension breaks. “Like you wouldn’t want to watch, you fucking voyeur.”

It never felt any different before Ross knew, when they all hung out or gamed together. But Trott’s thing with Smith only made Ross’ feelings for them grow. He quickly discovered he really, really liked Trott, in a more-than-strictly-friends way. It became more than just sexual. Things were casual enough between them that he knew Trott probably wouldn’t mind, if he felt the same way back- polyamory was an option they could consider. And Smith, even Smith interested Ross, the more he thought about it. It wasn’t purely sexual with him, either.

If all three of them could be together…then what was he waiting for? Why didn’t he just ask them about it? If Ross is honest with himself, he really likes the idea of being with them. Being with Trott, and maybe Smith, too. Either of them, or both, if they were interested. But he doesn’t want to get in the way. Maybe they wouldn’t want that- Ross doesn’t know- and it’s just…not actually going to happen. Is it? Why would they want him when they have what they want from each other?

What’s more, Ross didn’t know anything about how Smith and Trott’s relationship-fuck-buddy-thing worked. He knew they’d been having casual sex for a few months. He knew they were sort of seeing each other and no one else. But that was all Ross knew. They weren’t more publicly affectionate than they were before. Things had been normal between them. And then, ever since they started this trip, their touching had been more frequent.

Smith was already a casual-touch person among his close friends, but now he seemed inclined to casually brush up against Ross or put his hand on a shoulder, an arm, or the small of his back. And Trott was doing the same thing, which was what made Ross take note. Not that Trott didn’t pat him on the back every once in a while. His touch was more reserved than Smith’s, or at least, it had been, before this trip.

Ross hadn’t been sure it wasn’t some weird prank, until they started filming their trip and the touches died down on camera. On camera, things were normal, and off it, Trott and Smith’s suddenly hyper-aware attention on him made him ridiculously conflicted and confused.

And now this. They boarded the train and set up the camera, shot a quick update on their progress, and when they got settled, Smith and Trott each decided to hold hands with him.

Ross didn’t object. He didn’t move. He wasn’t uncomfortable. He didn’t say anything about it, and he didn’t comment on it. Neither did Smith and Trott.

So now, here they were. Smith’s head slid a little closer to Ross, and his lips are parted the tiniest fraction as he snores on. Smith is a heavy sleeper. Keeping that in mind, Ross looks to Trott, who was still staring out the window tiredly.

“Trott?” he whispers.

“Hm?” Trott turns his head. His brown eyes are half-lidded, and his mouth quirks up in a small smile. “What’s up, sunshine?”

Ross blinks back at him. He opens his mouth to ask something, but a different question comes out. “Do you want to sleep? If you’re worried about the tripod being unsteady, or the camera running out of battery, I’ll watch it for you.”

Trott hums again and pulls up his feet to curl up into the train seat. “You sure? I can set an alarm. You have to be tired, too.”

“I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t think he can sleep like this anyway. He has too much on his mind. “Take a nap, Trott. I’m not going anywhere,” he chuckles.

When Ross wakes from his own too-short nap, he groans at the crook in his neck and opens his eyes.

“Biscuit, sunshine?” Trott asks, gesturing to several boxes in his lap with a biscuit in hand, “A trolley of sweets and snacks came by and I bought a few things while you and Smith slept.”

Trott takes a bite out of the biscuit between his pointer finger and thumb, and chews slowly. There’s chocolate stuck to his fingers, and a smidge of powdered sugar at the corner of his mouth.

“Sure.” Ross forces himself to look away. He takes a biscuit from the plastic sleeve in front of him and munches silently. The rich chocolate cake-like base is dipped in ganache and has powdered sugar on top. Among the pile of snacks, Ross can see a small bag of salt and vinegar crisps, and a bag of spicy Doritos. His and Smith’s favorites.

Trott pushes the snacks off his lap and into the space between them on the seat. “There are drinks, too.” He reaches down by his feet and hands Ross a Coke.

Trott smiles back. “Figured we could use something to hold us over until dinner. Not much longer and we’ll arrive.”

Ross nods sagely as Trott turns back to the window. Both he and Smith have stopped holding his hands, and Ross pretends he isn’t missing it. Smith is curled up on the seat next to him. His face is hidden in Trott’s lumped-up coat, and his legs are pulled up to his chest. The heat of Smith’s sock-covered feet bleed through Ross’ jeans where they’re pressed against his outer thigh.

“How much longer do we have?” Ross asks, stuffing the rest of the biscuit in his mouth and turning back to Trott.

“Half an hour to forty-five minutes.” Trott checks his apple watch. The screen flickers momentarily, and he swipes through notifications with the hand that isn’t coated with crumbs and powdered sugar.

By the time they arrived in the small Swiss town they’d be staying in, it was cold and dark, and the weather was frigid and miserable. Luckily, they had a cozy cottage all to themselves, fully stocked with supplies should they get snowed in. They’d been told it wouldn’t happen, but it was good to be prepared just in case. The locals said the snow would stop by morning. Smith just hoped they could get where they needed to go without much of a hassle, and Trott agreed. They both knew what it was like to be stuck in shitty weather in the middle of nowhere.

Ross lies awake in bed that night, after a hearty beef stew dinner and a pint at the local pub. They were supposed to meet the wildlife expert the next morning, and they had to be up before dawn. But Ross didn’t fall asleep easily, and when he did, he dreamt.

He dreamt of Trott sitting next to the fireplace in his room in the cottage. He was eating the leftover biscuits from earlier, slowly, one at a time chewing and enjoying every bite. Trott let out these soft little moans as he licked and sucked his fingers clean. His eyes were half-lidded, his lips kiss-bitten, and his cheeks flushed pink.

And Smith was in the picture, too. He slid into Ross’ vision, on his knees in front of him, grinning wickedly. He placed his warm hands around Ross’ dick and then slowly took him into his mouth.

Ross moaned aloud, and woke himself up. The imagined feeling of Smith’s lips parting over his cock made him twitch, hard beneath the sheets. He wrapped his hand around his erection and cursed silently at how turned on he was from a stupid fantasy. It didn’t take long to tip himself over the edge, exhaling a long, shaky sigh. The high from his orgasm easily lulled Ross back into a doze, but as he wiped his hand clean on the sheets, he only felt guilt.

And then they get Snowed In, and end up Talking About Feelings and Banging Each Other.